


When The War Ended

by uptownwarblerr5



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, Forbidden Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shell Shock, War Aftermath, War!AU, World War I, jeff has shell shock, jeff won't see a doctor, lots of emotions, nick is a cinnamon roll, people are just homophobic, soldier!jeff, surgeon!nick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9306482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uptownwarblerr5/pseuds/uptownwarblerr5
Summary: Set in 1918 when Jeff comes home from the war. I wrote this as an assessment for my English literature class, and I thought I’d put it here (because I made it into fanfic without the teacher knowing).





	

I pace back and forth as I wait for Nicholas to get home. I had hoped he would be out so I could surprise him, but I miss him awfully. It’s been three years since I last saw him. 1915 it was. I can hardly bear to recall the feelings. Saying goodbye. Promising I would return home alive and not knowing if I could keep that promise. But now. Now I’m home. Home. Familiar, yet unfamiliar all at once. I tell myself things will be okay. The war is over now. I am shaken from my thoughts when I hear the bolt on the front door sliding against its holster. I sit quietly in the chair in the corner of the small kitchen, my stomach churning as I wait apprehensively. I hear footsteps just on the other side of the door. See fingers pushing through the wooden slats. See Nicholas. Finally, see him, as he steps into the kitchen that he has eaten alone in for the past three years. He glances up, dropping his jacket almost comically as his eyes widen. For a moment, everything is still. Then, wonderfully, we’re beside each other. I am in his arms and his head rests on my shoulder. I can feel his heartbeat against my own, and I want to cry. But I don’t. I’m not sure how long we embrace for, but it is not long enough. I feel his tears seeping through the thin fabric of my uniform, his fingers, tightly gripping the thin fabric at the back of my shirt. I pull back to look at him, unsure of which one of us is crying more.

“Jeffrey,” He breathes, reminding me just how much I’ve missed his voice, “you’ve come back.”

“Of course I’ve come back. Surely you didn’t think I wouldn’t?” I question him, although I know what he’s thinking.

He looks up at me. He looks so tired. “The post does take an awfully long time to arrive. I was afraid… I thought perhaps you might have died. That I mightn’t get the letter until after the war had ended.”

“You needn’t look on the negative side of things, my darling. I’m home and safe.” I pause, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, mumbling into the coffee-brown locks of hair. “I’ve missed you.”

He offers a soft smile, looking at me lovingly. “I’ve missed you too.” His expression changes to worry in an instant, and I feel his hand on my arm as he speaks. “Do you need anything? Are you quite hungry? Should I fetch some clean clothes?” His eyes are insistent as he tightens his hold on my arm.

“No, no. I’m fine. Don’t you worry yourself about me.”

He pushes me for an answer. “Are you positively sure?”  

“Positively. I’m home with you now. I don’t need anything more.”

His hand drops from my arm and he smiles, his cheeks reddening ever-so-slightly as he drops his head. “It’s becoming quite late, don’t you think? I’ll prepare dinner. Would you like anything in particular?”

“Not in particular, but don’t make anything too extravagant. I don’t want you to work yourself into the ground now that I’m back. Would you like me to help?”

He looks at me as though I’m a mad man. “You’ve been _at war_ , Jeffrey. You don’t need to do anything.”

I nod, squeezing his arm and retreating into the sitting room. I immediately find myself immersed in a novel from the shelf, not knowing whether it had been there previously or not. I read until Nicholas calls me out into the kitchen, his voice, his beautiful voice, ringing through the house. I soon find myself leaning against the kitchen wall, full from dinner and admiring Nicholas’ physique as he washes up the dishes – that he refused to let me help with. He turns to slide a pan onto the shelf, the object slipping to the ground as he loses his grip. It hits the ground with an awful noise, making me press my hands over my ears. I drop to the floor, bringing my knees up to my chest. All of a sudden, I’m back there. France. The bombs dropping around me as we are yelled at to duck for cover. My fellow soldiers, dropping like bricks as bullets and shrapnel hit them out of nowhere. I don’t remember why I’m on the kitchen floor, but I am. Nicholas is here too. His arms are around my shoulders, his hands running through my hair.

“Jeffrey,” I flinch. His voice seems too loud. “are you alright?”

I can’t bring myself to speak, only shaking my head. He frowns, helping me up and taking me to bed. It’s a nice bed, I think to myself as he pulls a heavy blanket over me. Our entire house is quite nice compared to everyone else’s. Nicholas was given a large sum of money from his father quite a few years ago, and he spent it on our home. I sometimes used to say that he spent too much on me, but he would always stop me, telling me that I deserved the best things that money could buy, and nothing less. I hear Nicholas leave the room, and I feel myself slipping into a deep sleep.

I am awoken by Nicholas’ hand on my shoulders, shaking me forcefully.

“What is it?” I mumble, squinting up at him against the harsh light of the lamp he has placed beside me.

“You were screaming darling…” He trails off, his eyes worried.

“I was?” I don’t remember screaming.

“Yes. You were going on about bombs, yelling for me to help you.”

“I suppose I just had a bad dream. No need to worry, dear.” Yes. Bad dream. That must be what happened.

Nicholas gives me a disbelieving look, but shrugs anyway. “If you say so. You just get some rest; I’ll bring you some breakfast in a moment.” He slips out of the bed, presumably making his way to the kitchen. He returns soon enough with a plate of eggs for us both, kissing my cheek as he resumes his place in the bed beside me. We eat, and I thank him for the eggs. He asks if I’m alright again, and I tell him I am. We get up and get ourselves dressed, Nicholas telling me he’s leaving for work. I kiss him goodbye and watch him leave from our small bedroom window. That’s when I hear it. The ringing. It starts gradually at first, and then it stops. I shake my head, tell myself I must be hearing things. I busy myself with washing the clothes, hanging them out when I hear it again. It’s louder this time. So much louder. It’s deafening. I can’t bear it. I run towards the back door, pushing it open with a bang. I can still hear the ringing. I groan in frustration as I run back inside and make my way out the front door. It doesn’t help. As I stand here, looking out at our quiet street, it gets worse. It hurts. It hurts so much. I get myself to my bed as quick as I can, pulling the covers around my head. Everything I do seems to make it worse, so I don’t move. I lie here and cry as the sound gets louder and louder. It’s like a ticking time bomb in my head, and I’m scared. I don’t know when it will go off, or what will happen when it does. I must have been here for hours, I think, as the noise of the front door opening and closing sounds through the house. I hear Nicholas calling my name, but I don’t get out of bed. If I do, the ringing might start to get even worse. It’s quieter now, but still there. Like a constant itch that won’t go away, no matter how much you scratch it. Except. Except I don’t know how to scratch this. Nicholas finds me, placing a hand against my forehead.

“Jeffrey, you’re burning up.”

I don’t respond. I can’t respond.

“Are you alright, darling? You’ve been acting off since you returned home.”

I remain silent.

“I’m worried, darling. Please say something.”

I hesitate. “Help me.” My voice is quiet. It has to be. Everything else is so loud.

“What do you need me to help with? I’ll do anything I can, what do you need?”

“Make the ringing stop.”

He looks at me uncomprehendingly. “What do you mean?”

“The ringing. It’s so loud.” I feel myself beginning to tremble, but I’m not cold.

Nicholas frowns and gives me a pitying look. “Darling, there isn’t any ringing.”

I sit up, keeping the covers around my ears. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s so incredibly loud. How can’t you hear it?”

“Because there isn’t a ringing noise. You’re hearing things. Perhaps you should see a-”

“No.” I cut him off. “No. I’m not seeing a doctor.”

“Please darling, you need to see someone.”

I won’t let him sway me. “We’ve discussed this, Nicholas. I will never see a doctor. We can figure it out, surely. You’re a doctor, why can’t you help?”

“Because I’m a surgeon, not a psychiatrist. This is something beyond my area of expertise.” He sighs. “Jeffrey, you aren’t well.”

“I’m perfectly fine. You know what will happen if I see a doctor.” I know I’m raising my voice. I don’t want to yell, but he needs to understand. If I got to the doctors, Nicholas will have to sign as my caretaker if there is something wrong. He’ll have to write his connection to me. Partner. Boyfriend. Soulmate. Love of my life. There are already whispers in the town. They’ve been going on since before the war even started. I know people suspect that Nicholas and I are more than friends. To confirm that would be the end. I love Nicholas with all my heart, but I couldn’t bear to be taken away from him. If people found out, one of us would be sent away for sure.

“Darling, you aren’t fine. You’re acting as if you have shell shock.” He rubs my arm, his movements stopping as he gasps. “Jeffrey, you’ve got shell shock.”

“Don’t be silly. I don’t have shell shock.” I shake my head dismissively. He puts his hands on either side of my face, looking at me intently.

“It couldn’t be anything else. The nightmares. The flashbacks. Hearing things that aren’t there. Please darling, get help. For me.”

I feel guilt flooding through my body as he begins to cry, willing myself not to do the same.

“Please don’t be worried about what people will think. We can always go and live with my parents if things go badly.” _Go badly. If people find out, he means._ “I love you Jeffrey, I just want you to be healthy.”

I sigh. I know he’s right. “Alright.” I offer a weak smile. “If it really means that much to you, I’ll go.”

“Oh, Jeffrey, thank you. I’ll make sure you have the best psychiatrist money can get. I’ll make sure you have everything that you need. I love you.”

I smile properly now, resting my forehead against Nicholas’ own. “I love you too.”


End file.
